


With Time To Bloom

by sylviaviridian



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Grief/Mourning, Healing Cuddles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Questionable parenting choices, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22181914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylviaviridian/pseuds/sylviaviridian
Summary: It's been a few months since Urianger arrived on the First, and his work on aetheric research has begun in earnest. To that end, he has a proposal that he hopes might help with some of Thancred's problems, too. Assuming he can keep his personal feelings from becoming too obvious, anyway.A story about gentle places, and how people grow into one another.
Relationships: Urianger Augurelt/Thancred Waters
Comments: 38
Kudos: 146





	1. Experimental therapy

"One of the things I have sought in my studies is a remedy for thine injuries, a way to heal what will not mend itself through natural means."

Thancred froze in place, not looking at Urianger but holding still in a way that Urianger knew meant he had the Hyur's full attention. "...Come again?"

It was an ordinary enough day at the Bookman's Shelves. Over the six moons or so since he'd arrived, Urianger had almost grown accustomed to the unchanging glow of the sky. He'd had to find other ways besides the angle of the sun to remind himself when it was time to take a break for food or sleep, but that too was a part of his studies here.

Regular visits from Thancred and his young charge helped, especially after they'd found him in a rather pitiable state the first time, having kept a lamentably erratic schedule for the first several weeks of his stay. Once he'd assured them that his condition was not the product of deliberate neglect or mental distress, they'd both had a few tips to offer in that regard - even Thancred, who, much to Urianger's regret, had been alone here for two entire years before he and Y'shtola had been brought to join him.

Soon after they'd come, and apparently with the blessing or assistance of the Crystal Exarch, Thancred had mounted a solitary assault on Eulmore, the capital of one of the other major regions of Norvrandt. His goal had been to free the Oracle of Light, Minfilia, or rather her younger reincarnation, who was being kept prisoner there, safe and secure and of no use to anyone, least of all herself. And now the two of them regularly came to see Urianger here in the aether-dense Il Mheg, where he had set up to further his studies on aether and work on creating more auracite for the Warrior of Light, whenever they should finally arrive.

Minfilia was outside reading in the flowers: the girl had an understandable preference for relaxing outdoors whenever possible, and as the pixies knew she was under Urianger's protection, there were few places safer for her to indulge than here. In the meantime, Urianger and Thancred's conversation had naturally turned to his research. An idle lament at Thancred's inability to be much use in practical studies had prompted Urianger to admit that he'd been looking into whether something could be done about that as well, and...well, here they were.

"Understanding the movement of aether through living bodies will be, I believe, a key part of my research," he clarified. "And so naturally my thoughts turned to thy condition as well." He paced a few steps closer. "The damage to the flow of thine aether cannot be systemic, or thou wouldst be impaired in ways more immediately crippling than being unable to reach out to manipulate it. I can think of no reason that a remedy should be wholly impossible, given enough time and study."

For a moment, listening to his friend's silence, he wondered if he had gone too far in offering hope, his heart aching in empathy for Thancred's loss. But when the other turned to face him again at last, Thancred's gaze was clear and curious. "Well, then...if it's relevant to what you were already doing, I'd certainly be happy for any, ah, progress you could make on that front. I've been teaching Minfilia to help me compensate, but of course it would ease my mind far more to have that ability restored. Have you any concrete ideas yet for how it might be done?"

"...I may have found something of use, in my readings," Urianger allowed slowly, letting his gaze drift away and feeling his face heat slightly as he led up gradually to the crux of the matter. "...The issue is most certainly one of aetheric trauma suffered during thy travels through the Lifestream. Much as a scar of the flesh may limit movement, something of the way thine aether healed upon leaving the Lifestream must have closed it off from outside influence, most akin to one deafened by a noise of unendurable volume. In concept, it should be possible to aid thee in extending the reach of thine aether gradually until the damage is lessened or cleared away..."

"Your tone says I'm not going to like the method," Thancred replied dryly. "Spit it out, Urianger. I trust you to have my best interests in mind."

"Nothing arduous is involved," Urianger told him reassuringly. "Only...the technique which may allow me to draw on and guide thy body's aether requires a prolonged period of...close physical contact."

This caused Thancred to tilt his head, likely trying to size up any implications which Urianger had been _very careful_ not to make. "So...you're saying that in order to perform this therapy on my aether...I have to allow you to _hold_ me?"

Urianger's face was definitely flushing slightly, despite all his willing his expression to remain neutral. "Aye. Likely for a few bells at a time, to make best use of the time we have. I know not how often thou wilt be able to continue returning here, nor how long it may be until the Exarch manages to summon our friend. In my estimation, we should aim for the swiftest progress achievable within the bounds of safety."

Thancred considered this for only a moment, then shrugged. "Well, I've done far more questionable things with far less reason." And apparently considering the matter settled, he strode purposefully toward the couch, shedding the weight of his coat along the way and draping it over a chair. "I assume this will go more smoothly with less between us."

"Layers of clothing matter little to the technique, but for the sake of mine own comfort, I appreciate the gesture." The coat wouldn't interfere with the melding of aether, but remaining close together for such a time would be a great deal easier without buckles and other accessories digging into anyone's flesh. Urianger followed after him, settling onto the couch and trying to will his heart rate steady. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself such closeness for any reason, and try as he might to ignore it, he was all too aware that Thancred was both charming and handsome. _This is only for his benefit. Calm thyself._ He patted the couch beside himself invitingly, hoping in the immediate wake of the gesture that Thancred wouldn't make some lewd joke of it that Urianger wasn't sure how to deflect.

Thankfully, it seemed that Thancred was more interested in getting started with their experimental therapy than in needling Urianger for his awkwardness. He settled onto the couch, well within what Urianger would normally consider his personal space, and moved along willingly as the Elezen guided him to lean against his side. "It is imperative to the technique that thou movest as little as possible," Urianger cautioned. "Pray settle into a position thou wilt be able to keep for the duration."

Thancred nodded, and sighed deeply as he settled in, his back half against the couch and half against Urianger's side, feet pulled up onto the couch beside him. He was warm and solid, and Urianger could feel his muscles flexing and relaxing even through their clothes. "Will this do, for close contact?"

"Aye, 'tis more than sufficient." Urianger couldn't quite help the way his voice lowered to a murmur - he, too, would need to be relaxed and comfortable for this to work, and that meant settling into the unaccustomed intimacy. Having not much else to do with his arm on that side, he laid it carefully over Thancred's shoulders, doing his best not to impede the other's comfort. "Try to breathe along with the rise and fall of mine own breaths… 'twill ease the task of synchronizing our aether."

It took a few minutes for them to settle into each other's pace. Once he could feel their chests rising and falling more or less in time, Urianger carefully opened his senses to observe the flow of energy. This would be delicate work, and the wrong slip could end up making his condition worse instead of better. To start with, he merely watched how Thancred's aether moved, identifying his breath, the beating of his heart, a dozen other details present in a normal, healthy body. But as he'd expected, nearly all of the channels leading to the outside were dormant, resistant to any aetheric activity - no doubt this had protected Thancred on his journey through the Lifestream, kept his soul from being entirely flooded and allowed him to exit safely, and for that Urianger was grateful.

The adaptation had become a liability, though. Carefully, he reached out with his own aether, past the deadened channels, to make contact with Thancred's energy directly. If he could guide that internal flow outward to touch Il Mheg's ambient aether, even marginally, Thancred might yet regain enough sensation to begin doing some of the work himself.

A caught breath from Thancred made him hesitate, and he withdrew as quickly as he dared, bringing his attention back to their physical forms. "Does it pain thee?" he asked calmly, though he felt sure Thancred could feel his heart racing with alarm.

"No...no, not at all," Thancred replied. "I'm sorry, I was only...surprised. Whatever you were doing, I _felt_ that. It didn't hurt, it just...I don't know how to describe it. It tingles a bit, I suppose, but nothing unpleasant. Just a sort of touch I'm not used to." He took another deep breath, and leaned a little more firmly into Urianger's side, a gesture which made Urianger all the more conscious of the difference in their heights. "Keep going? Even if it doesn't last, it's...nice to feel something again."

That melancholy admission made Urianger want to do something reckless, like kiss the top of his head in reassurance. He swallowed the impulse, and refocused his attention. Carefully, delicately, he lined up his own aether with Thancred's, let the energies mingle, then began to draw them outward little by little, redirecting aether into paths burned out and long dormant. Close against his side but outside his focus, he could feel minute changes in the tension of Thancred's body against his own, reacting to whatever he could feel of the process as Urianger continued to carefully nudge his energy toward the outside. He pushed as far as he could without losing the thread, returning back to the source whenever he felt Thancred's energy slipping away from the mix.

The process continued, full of steady ebb and flow, a patient and endless repetition, as Urianger maintained his focus on the low-energy channeling, with their bodies pressed close and still breathing in time. He was so focused on keeping pace with the natural rhythms of Thancred's aether, he wasn't sure how long it had been by the time he noticed how much said pace had slowed...as had their synchronized breathing. Ever so gently, he disentangled his aether from Thancred's, and opened his eyes to check on what his other senses had already told him: Thancred was fast asleep against his side.

Watching his friend's relaxed face, he wondered how much sleep Thancred actually got while traveling. Even with the perpetual brightness of the sky, four walls and a roof could close out enough light for a person to sleep in darkness, but he was sure Thancred and Minfilia were spending their nights out under the blazing sky as often as not; and he knew from experience that the other was a very light sleeper, the lingering effects of a life spent in constant wariness.

Probably, he decided, Thancred was very much in need of the rest. Furthermore, if he moved even far enough to reach a book to pass the time, his companion would surely wake, and coaxing him back to sleep would be impossible. The only thing to do was to stay put exactly as he was, and pass that time by joining him in slumber. As relaxed as he was from the earlier meditation, it took only closing his eyes and a few deep breaths before his mind drifted away entirely.

Some unknown time later, he became vaguely aware of another presence, on his other side - a small, delicate frame curling up warmly against him. He laid his other arm over Minfilia to draw her into the shared embrace, and drifted back off again without fully waking.


	2. Bound By The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Il Mheg may look like paradise, but beneath the surface, all is not entirely well.

The experimental aether therapy became a part of their routine, every time Thancred and Minfilia visited. Once the two of them were settled in, fed and cleaned up and rested enough to cover their immediate needs, Minfilia would make her way outside, and Thancred and Urianger would settle back onto the couch together.

It had taken a few visits for Minfilia to ask exactly what they were doing, and when Urianger explained it, she went quiet for a moment, her expression dimming.

"If he learns to use aether again...he won't need me to charge his shells for him, right? He'll be able to do it on his own…"

Urianger's heart sank a little with the fading of her smile. It made sense that she would have this concern, but...she was so young. To already feel as if she needed to make herself useful to them… "Thancred wishes to protect thee better," he tried to reassure her. "He came to thine aid never anticipating any reciprocation, but only seeking that thou might live the life which Eulmore denied thee. Thine ability to contribute hath no bearing on our desire to offer thee freedom."

She looked away. "I know. It's just...the other Minfilias were much better warriors by the time they were my age. I feel like I don't know anything yet, and...I want to help him. I want… Even if he'd be all right with me being dead weight, even if he'd still guard me no matter what, I want to be better for him than that."

"Thou'rt a child." Without thinking, he reached out and laid his hand atop her head, in a comforting gesture his own mentor had once offered to a boy frightened by prophecies he had no power yet to change. "...Children are meant to be guarded, Minfilia. 'Tis a tragedy that we cannot do better by thee than this. Thou shouldst yet be living as free and blithe as the pixies, learning and growing, not struggling for thy right to freedom. ...And the lives of the Oracles who came before thee should be mourned, not aspired to. We mean at least to offer thee more childhood than they were given."

"...Thank you." She lifted her head beneath the gentle weight of his hand and smiled up at him. He could see in her luminously blue eyes that she didn't quite believe his words, but there was real gratitude in her gaze regardless. "You're both so kind to me. I guess there's a lot I don't understand yet...and I still want to learn to help. But I'll try not to worry you, either."

"Thou wilt have time," he promised her. "Time to grow into thyself. Prithee do not hasten to abandon thy youth - it cannot be retrieved once it has passed."

That was a lesson he'd learned too late: starting at close to the age she was now, he had rushed to grow strong enough to help prepare the world for the coming Calamity, only to find himself grown and entirely unready for adulthood once said Calamity had come and gone. And the original Minfilia had been in much the same position, to Thancred's eternal dismay. Though he knew better than to openly place such a burden on her small shoulders, to both of them this young Minfilia represented a chance to do better, to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past. It was impossible to know how long they would have here with her, but he silently promised himself that he would ensure she was guided as well as possible, until they were sent home.

Later, after she'd gone to bed, in what should have been a quiet night if night existed in this place, he told Thancred about the conversation, and Minfilia's concerns. "She aspireth so fervently to the legacy laid before her," he concluded. "...Would that we could spare her more of it, and yet I cannot see how to bring her to an understanding of where that wish will lead her, without tearing away the foundations of the world she knows."

Thancred was silent in the wake of this explanation, and more solemn than Urianger had seen him in a very long time, for once not even pretending to hide behind his usual mask of levity. "There's something you should know," he sighed finally, and Urianger's heart sank at the bleakness of his tone. "About what happened when we went to Amh Araeng."

And so Thancred laid out for him, to Urianger's increasing consternation, how Minfilia - the original, the one they had known - had taken over her younger counterpart's body briefly. How she'd explained to him the truth of her role, her sustained presence in this world, and ultimately declared her refusal to continue depriving children of their wills unless she was given no other choice.

What she had done up until now was heartbreaking in and of itself, but worse was that Urianger knew she had done only what was necessary. This dying world needed the hope the Oracles represented, and the Scions needed Minfilia's abilities and guidance now that they had finally followed her here. Had she known they would come one day, or had she only hoped? Would she have continued the cycle for centuries more if the Exarch's plan had taken longer, or failed entirely? How many little girls would have had their lives stolen before the first Oracle could no longer endure sacrificing them?

It didn't bear speculation, and Urianger forced his thoughts away and onto more current matters. "Thus the Minfilia we knew yet endures...but so long as this little one desireth to live her own life, she refuseth to return to us, for in so doing, she would sacrifice the girl once and for all. Thou and I both know she was too kind to wish such a fate on anyone."

"Don't say 'was'," Thancred responded sharply, eyes hidden and grief plain in his voice. "She isn't gone yet."

"Thancred." A patient, chiding tone, to remind Thancred that he knew better than that. They both did, no matter how much it hurt.

"She doesn't _have_ to be! It isn't _fair!_ " He pounded the side of a fist on a table half-covered in books, and one slipped from the top of a stack, landing beside his hand with a heavy thud. "She can still come back to us, live the rest of the life she should have had! She was so young!" His voice strained on the last word, and he turned his back, taking a moment to master himself.

"Well do I know both her struggles and her youth, having spent many days by her side in our time at the Waking Sands," Urianger replied into the pause, clinging to his patience, trying his hardest to suppress the ache in his own heart that mirrored Thancred's more emphatic grief. The reminder that he had been at the base while Thancred was off on missions was perhaps a little more pointed than he had meant it to be, but after all, Thancred was _not_ the only one of them who suffered at her loss. "And yet the girl is still younger. She hath no less right to her own life; and 'tis Minfilia's wish that she be given the opportunity to choose what that life means."

"And that I should guide her until she can find her path. I know!" Thancred ran a hand roughly through his hair, tousling it further, and his tone settled to something slightly calmer, if also more broken. "...I know. But how can I do that? How can I trust anything I do to her, for her, with her? You're _right_ that she deserves to make that choice, because I am _clearly_ unfit to have any influence." He gestured expansively, and Urianger was distantly glad that at least he was self-aware enough to recognize what a state he was in. "And yet I am the one who must show her the world and how to get along within it? How can I guide her to herself when...when the only person I can see when I look at her is the same person who wants her to become someone else?!"

Urianger stepped closer, and for a moment the image flashed through his mind's eye of embracing Thancred here and now, soothing all this wild hurt until Thancred could view his own path and choices more clearly. He banished the thought ruthlessly: any such unwelcome gesture would surely only make Thancred unwilling to confide in him further. "Hence the reason thou hast kept her at arm's length for these past moons," he realized aloud instead. "I had found the decision perplexing, as I have never known thee to be cruel to one who hath done nothing to earn it."

Thancred was still refusing to meet his eyes, but Urianger could see the man wince. "'Tis less cruel than any other choice," he murmured in return. "I don't know what else to do, Urianger. She knows nothing of the world, and she has no one else to lean on; if I earn her trust, she will simply follow me to the end of everything, when she should be deciding on her own way forward." He finally looked up at Urianger, gaze bleak and pleading. "And I cannot trust anything I say or do around her not to be...pushing her, selfishly, whether I mean to or not. Whatever choice she makes in the end, I _cannot_ let it be made to please _me._ "

A thought occurred to Urianger then, and his breath hitched with the pain that struck alongside it. "...And if she _should_ choose not to remain in this world…if Minfilia does return at the cost of the girl's life…" Urianger closed his eyes against the swell of grief. "Who will she then have become, forcing herself to live at such a price?" Would either of them be able to walk beside her without being constantly reminded of what she'd taken from others to be there? "'Tis a future as likely as the alternative, and even now I know not if I could easily bear the weight of it."

"Just one more part of this dilemma." Thancred sighed and looked away again. "...I know that I'm hurting the girl. I'm not blind. But 'tis better to hurt her than to control her. If I keep my distance, at least she'll be free to decide for herself."

"...I understand thy reasoning," Urianger replied slowly. "And I will not interfere with thy choice, nor encourage her to rely on thee more than she does now. But neither will I turn aside from aiding her as well as I may. Perhaps if she can come to regard others as equally reliable, or even moreso, compared to thyself, 'twill ease thy burden. I shall make every effort to become a pillar of support for her in thy stead."

"Thank you, Urianger." The relief in Thancred's eyes was almost painful to look upon. "I'm sorry to put all this on your shoulders, but I'm glad to have your aid. And Minfilia already cares for you, I can tell; she'll be glad to spend more time in your company."

Urianger smiled back at him, silently tucking away any commentary on Thancred's attention to her feelings. "I have much time to occupy, and am ever willing to spare some for thee and for Minfilia. Perhaps I shall find some tomes that will help further her education."

He wondered, as he wandered to his bedroom and left Thancred to settle into his customary place on the couch for sleep, if any of it would help in the long run. He did understand what Thancred intended, of course, but how could the girl do any less than put her whole faith in the man who had brought her out of captivity?

It wasn't for him to decide. Meddling between them would only worsen both their suffering; and besides that, he had already given Thancred his word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, the fluff got angsty. Sorry, can't have hurt/comfort without showing off the hurt.


	3. A Midday Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Urianger has developed a course of study for Minfilia, and Thancred is not that good at cooking.

Most of the books at the Bookman's Shelves, it transpired, were not much suitable for a beginner's work. By their next return Urianger had managed to set aside a few that would suffice, and taken some time to prepare a lesson plan to fill in the gaps.

Fortunately, Minfilia already had a grasp of the basics of aetherology as understood on the First, which had allowed him to skip forward to more specific subjects. They were midway through a lesson on glamours and illusions when he saw her rest her head on her hand as if caught in a dizzy spell.

"Art thou quite well?" he asked her. "Thou hast only to ask for a respite, if the work is too wearying. 'Tis not as though our curriculum must keep to a concrete schedule."

"No, I'm fine." Minfilia shook her head, and smiled at him reassuringly. "...It was the Echo. I saw...I think that must have been you? You were so small! I always forget that elves grow slower than the rest of us. ...Did you really play tricks on your teachers?"

He wasn't sure how to answer that question. He _had_ , on occasion, but admitting to youthful mischief was only steps away from condoning it, and he certainly didn't want to encourage Minfilia to play tricks on _him_. The pixies were quite enough to manage. "Twas rarely mine own idea," he temporized. "What exactly didst thou see?"

"Yes, I think they were talking you into it." Still smiling, her eyes glazed over slightly with recollection. "Thancred was there too; I could recognize him easily, even though he didn't have his tattoos yet. And..."

Time seemed to slow down as he realized what was about to happen in the middle of the sentence she was speaking. He could feel his eyes widen, his breath catch, his pulse begin to hammer with anxiety at needing to respond to the question he could already see forming on her lips, asked in perfect innocence. For Thancred had rarely been the only one making an effort to persuade him to participate in such things...

"...Who is Moenbryda?"

He didn't know how to answer. How could he summarize Moenbryda, who she had been, what she had meant, without burdening Minfilia with pain she didn't need to carry? He wasn't even sure he could keep his voice steady enough to explain what Minfilia had seen and who they had all been to one another back in their days at the Studium in Sharlayan. Seconds ticked past in suffocating silence as he tried to find any words that would suffice.

"Moenbryda was an old friend, since our days in school together," Thancred's voice chimed in lightly from the door to the kitchen, to Urianger's intense relief. "She was the first person to drag Urianger's nose out of his books, just pestered him until he gave up trying to ignore her." He wandered into the room fully, and smiled at both of them in turn. "Sorry to interrupt your studies, Minfilia - Urianger, could I borrow you for a moment? I may have overestimated my culinary skills slightly."

Urianger managed to gather his voice back enough to reply "Of course," and he saw Minfilia smile and return to her reading as he turned to follow Thancred into the kitchen.

"Don't worry about it," Thancred said as soon as they were through the door, in a voice low enough to keep Minfilia from overhearing. "I just thought you might want a moment to catch your breath."

"I appreciate thy consideration," Urianger admitted, keeping his voice similarly low. "...Her memory stings less than once it did, but caught thus off-guard...I had no reason to have prepared an explanation."

Thancred nodded, and patted him on the arm; the warmth of his hand was reassuring. "I'll just be here finishing lunch. Take your time."

Urianger nodded, gaze unfocused, and took a few deep breaths to settle his nerves. The air of the kitchen smelled of fresh-cut produce in addition to the usual herbs and flowers. He tracked Thancred's progress back across the kitchen by the sound of firm, quiet footfalls, _thump, thump, thump-squelch, thump_...

He frowned suddenly, and turned his gaze to the spot of floor his friend had just passed over. There was a small puddle of reddish juice there, about the size of a gil coin, now with footprints freshly tracked through it. The juice seemed in turn to have dripped down the cabinets from the counter, where there was considerably more of it, along with some seeds and scraps of tomato flesh.

Quickly, he assessed the rest of the kitchen, growing increasingly aghast despite Thancred's apparent obliviousness to the mess. Two of the hard biscuits he had been intending to deliver to the Nu Mou in a day or two were sitting crumbled on a different counter, beside a knife that he assumed had been meant to cut them in half. Thancred was tending to a pot of visibly boiling noodles upon the stove, with a pan of white sauce on the back burner; beside the stove was a mixing bowl with far too much flour scattered around it...and when he looked more closely, much of the flour and the wall behind the stove was dampened with splatters of sauce or milk, it was hard to tell which.

"Thancred," he began uncertainly, and then faltered, unsure which element to object to first. Once he had the other's concerned gaze turned toward himself, he gestured expansively toward the state of the kitchen. "Thine excuse appears to have contained more truth than I had anticipated. What manner of storm hath befallen my kitchen?"

Thancred looked around, seeming to notice for the first time how much the mess had added up. "...Ah. This does look rather bad, doesn't it? I'll clean it up when I'm done, I promise, things just got a bit...out of hand."

Urianger strode toward the remains of the crumbled biscuits on the far counter. "These were meant as a gift for the Nu Mou, not for our lunchtime repast."

Thancred intercepted his path smoothly, sweeping the crumbs into a neater pile. "Something I realized when I tasted one, I assure you. After I tried to slice them for buttering, I thought you'd just let them go stale."

Turning to face the opposite counter, Urianger saw where the mess of juice and tomato bits had come from: a neatly-made and tasty-looking green salad sat in a bowl there, just past where Thancred had been standing. Tasty-looking, but… "...Didst thou retrieve these greens from the left or right side of the icebox?"

"I don't remember," Thancred replied, returning to the stove to stir his noodles. "Is it that important?"

Urianger plucked a leaf from the bowl, chewed it, and immediately grimaced. "...Test a few leaves for thyself and thou wilt discover the reason."

To his credit, Thancred didn't hesitate in trying the same experiment. His brow furrowed as he swallowed away the taste. "Ugh...those weren't meant for us either, I take it."

Urianger shook his head. "Though I am certain the Amaro will appreciate thine efforts - I shall return the whole container to storage and deliver it to them on the morrow." He picked up the bowl and began searching for a cloth to cover it with and keep the tomatoes from drying out too badly.

Thancred followed him, growing mildly indignant. "Now, I can't take all the blame for this. Why in the Twelve's name are you keeping these things in the same place as the regular food?"

"And where else am I to keep them?" Having found the covering he sought, Urianger tucked away the bowl inside the ice-crystal-fueled storage cabinet to keep it preserved. "This dwelling is quite expansive, but I have neither the space nor the need for a separate icebox, save apparently in the event that my guests cannot take a moment to ask after the available provisions."

"You might need another one if you actually kept any meat that wasn't dried," the retort came quickly. "I _was_ going to just make sandwiches, but I couldn't find enough to fill them with."

"Supply lines to Il Mheg are _remarkably_ thin," Urianger replied dryly. "To fish carries risks of encountering the Fuath, and there is little and less worth hunting to eat when nearly all that walks the land is botanical in nature, and suffused with aether besides."

"...And even if that weren't true, I'm not actually sure I'd trust a fish you'd cleaned yourself," Thancred answered back in the same tone. "So, noodles it shall be. I'm fairly certain I... _eventually_ remembered the correct recipe for white sauce. Unless you've more to tell me about the flour in your cupboards. Is the milk reserved for the pixies, by any chance?"

"Rather, the pixies are the source of it. Despite their perpetual distraction, somehow they manage to be effective shepherds." Urianger looked at him sidelong. "Will I need to trade for more after today's endeavors?"

"I left you...easily half of what had been there," Thancred replied, looking a little guilty. "And if it needs replacing, I can handle playing with the pixies for a few hours in payment. But honestly, if you're going to let me prepare meals - a task which I _am_ still more than willing to undertake on occasion, cleanup included - we really ought to go over exactly what I am and am not allowed to touch." He strode over toward the spice rack. "I couldn't go near these, they aren't even labeled." Picking up the jar of dryweed apparently at random, he shook it for emphasis. "I can't be-"

Alarmed all at once, Urianger didn't wait to hear how that sentence would have ended. He crossed the kitchen in a stride and a half and grabbed Thancred's wrist to stop the movement before he set off a reaction in the volatile herbs. Only once the danger had passed did he realize what he'd done in the process: in his haste, he had pinned Thancred against the edge of the counter. Looking down instinctively to check the other's response, his eyes met Thancred's wide, startled gaze, and caught there, unable to tear away.

They remained that way for a few tense breaths, chest to chest, Urianger's fingers still wrapped around Thancred's wrist, before he was able to gather himself enough to release his grip and step back.

"To begin with," he managed, "that particular jar containeth dryweed. There is a lengthy rendering process by which is produced an oil which the Fuath find distasteful, for occasions when venturing near the water is unavoidable. ...As it groweth alongside anemone sprouts, however, 'tis exceedingly unpleasant if agitated while fresh."

"...Right." Thancred eyed the jar, and set it back down carefully. "In other words, don't shake the dryweed. That's one I'll be sure to remember."

Urianger smiled in response, and nodded toward the pot of noodles still bubbling. "Attend to thy cookery, for the moment. Once our midday meal hath concluded, I shall aid thee in tidying the kitchen, and in the process ensure thou knowest the contents of the cabinets, for future endeavors."

"I'd appreciate that," Thancred replied sheepishly, returning to the stove. "...And I really am sorry about the mess."

"Think nothing of it." With one last glance, Urianger swept from the room, back to where Minfilia was now curiously eyeing the door to the kitchen.

"Is everything all right?" she asked as he returned to the table.

"Any missteps have been repaired," he nodded. "Thancred's preparations for our repast should be completed quite soon, but before we adjourn, let us summarize the reading thus far…"


	4. Impatient Inpatient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only thing worse than Thancred getting himself hurt is trying to keep Thancred in bed long enough to heal.

Urianger was checking the contents of the cupboards again when a pixie darted in through the kitchen window. It had been a few weeks since he'd seen Thancred and Minfilia, and while their travel was deliberately unpredictable (lest Eulmore catch onto some pattern and waylay them), they were rarely away from Il Mheg for too long a stretch. With Urianger's influence sheltering them from the faeries' wrath, they would always be safer here than in any land ruled by mortals.

A quick glance at the leafy veins and color pattern of the pixie's wings led Urianger to the realization that he knew this visitor well. "Beq Thon," he greeted them. "What bringest thou to mine abode this fine day?"

"Visitors, of course!" The pixie hovered for a moment, darted two feet to the left and hovered there, then performed an anxious midair loop. "A man and a girl. The others wanted to make him a leafman, but she won't leave him alone. I told them they were yours, I did tell them, but I don't know how long they'll wait to just turn them both! You must come!"

Urianger was already shaking off the shock and beginning to make for the door, taking up the starglobe which had lately been fashioned for him by the artisans of the Crystarium from its customary place on his way past. "Thancred should be well able to speak for himself," he told Beq Thon. "And he knoweth better than to draw thy siblings' ire. What hath transpired that they wish to take such measures?"

"Oh, it was because he was bleeding on the flowers," Beq Thon explained, fluttering alongside his haste, a little calmer now that their urgency had been transferred to its intended target. "They thought, if they turn him into a leafman, it will stop being such a mess."

Clenching his jaw to avoid educating the pixie on any more curses than they already knew, Urianger gathered the skirt of his robe upward with one hand to leave his ankles clear, and set off after Beq Thon at a dead run.

As they approached, Urianger allowed himself a moment's relief to see that no fresh leafmen were in evidence upon the little hill. Thancred was face down in the flowers, with Minfilia standing over him protectively, arms outstretched, attention divided between three pixies who were darting to and fro. While he was still too far away to intervene, he saw one of them get outside her field of vision enough to dart in and yank playfully at her long hair; she cried out and pulled away just far enough to free herself, and as he finally drew near he saw that her cheeks were glistening with tears, worry and frustration etched across her features in equal measure.

A wave of sick dread washed through him...and then, somewhat to his own surprise, rather than empathetic anguish he found  _ anger _ igniting deep beneath his skin, a protective wrath on behalf of his- of  _ Thancred's _ beleaguered charge. "Cease these games at once!" he thundered, projecting his voice to still their movements even as he charged in to place himself firmly between the girl and the pixies.

"I told you, I  _ told _ you!" Beq Thon agreed, flittering around them and pushing one of their bolder siblings away from the mortals.

"You told us, but they're still a mess!" one of the other pixies cried. They fluttered up directly into Urianger's face, hovering less than a fulm from his nose, indignant and petulant. "What do you mean to offer us for their release?"

Urianger stared the pixie down, refusing to be intimidated. "Thou hast been paid already," he replied frostily. "I did witness thee and thy kin amusing thyselves at the girl's expense. Tears and blood both have been spilled here today, and the flowers will bloom all the brighter for it." He had meant to use the argument that blood was good for flowers as a part of his negotiation regardless, but in this moment he no longer felt like offering any further concessions than that. "Depart and amuse thyselves elsewhere, and we shall speak no more of debts for this incident."

Seeming to sense the implacability of his mood, the pixie backed down, fluttering off to their siblings. "Oh, very well, very well," they muttered dismissively. "But if he isn't moved when we come back, he gets to stay here forever!"

He stood firm and watched the trio go - only when the movement of their fluttering wings had vanished among the sway of flowers did he finally turn to regard Minfilia and the prone Thancred.

"How badly is he?" he asked, voice low and urgent, as he knelt to turn Thancred over and examine the injury. Thancred groaned when he was moved - a good sign, that he was still aware enough to feel the wound, even if Urianger's heart quailed at the thought of causing him further pain.

To her credit, Minfilia had used the reprieve to regain her composure, and her voice was steady as she replied. "I didn't think it was so deep," she answered. "He didn't say anything after the fight...only that you'd be waiting, and we should hurry. But when we got past the border, he started to sweat, and then…"

Urianger was already drawing on a spell to stem the bleeding, but while the spell's aether sank into the edges of the injury, the closer to the core of the wound it drew, the less effect it seemed to have, curling and redirecting itself into other tissues as if it were being repelled. He sighed in frustration. "Aetheric contamination," he muttered. "Doubtless exacerbated by Il Mheg's greater density of ambient aether, hence his sudden collapse. Worry not," he reassured Minfilia, who had suddenly looked alarmed. "'Tis not the infusion of Light which would precede his transformation into one of those beasts: he will recover in time. But 'twill  _ take _ time, more than I think he shall like."

She nodded, relieved but downcast. "He will be angry," she murmured.

"With himself, not with thee." Carefully, he gathered Thancred into his arms, cradling the Hyur as he stood up, his heart fluttering a little at how comfortably Thancred fit in his embrace. The smaller man's breathing was a little ragged, but feeling the rhythm of it against his own body eased Urianger's nerves nonetheless. "And possibly with myself as well, for I mean to keep him off his feet as long as I am able, or he is like to slow his own recovery with impatience. Shall we be off?"

No further obstacles presented themselves on the way to the Bookman's Shelves, and Urianger made sure to assign Minfilia to the task of boiling some useful herbs from the now-labeled jars in the kitchen before settling Thancred into his bed to address the wound. Thancred groaned and shifted a little when Urianger removed his torn shirt, but his eyes didn't flutter until he'd begun cleaning the gash with a damp rag, wiping away half-dried blood and the grime of both battle and travel.

"Hush," Urianger murmured, upon seeing him open his mouth. "Thy wound was tainted with aether. Thou didst collapse upon entering the reach of Il Mheg's deeper currents, and Minfilia was accosted by pixies and unable to bear thee hence by her own strength alone."

Thancred nodded his understanding, and shivered a little under another sweep of the cloth along the ragged edge of his injury, throat visibly working to keep silent. After another deep breath, eyes closed again, he managed, "...Is she…?"   
  
"Perfectly well, though distressed by the circumstance. I have assigned her to begin the preparation of a healing salve which will ease thy pain." Urianger kept his focus on the task at hand, trying with some effort to keep his attention only on the rent flesh, and not the smooth texture of bare skin over muscles.

"Thanks." Thancred's hand lifted into the air and wavered for a moment, before reaching out to settle on top of Urianger's head.

Urianger's movements stilled involuntarily as the warm weight atop his scalp set his skin to wild tingling and his heart to racing. He forced himself to take a slow, deep breath, grateful for a moment that Thancred was too near the edge of unconsciousness to see the flush that he could feel spreading to the tips of his ears. Carefully, gingerly, he reached up to take that hand in one of his own, and for a moment thought he had made a mistake in doing so: the temptation to bring it to his lips was so strong that he wasn't sure he had the will to resist it.

Instead, he reluctantly lowered it back to Thancred's side. His grip lingered, unable to bring himself to pull away just yet. "Prithee refrain from moving," he murmured, far more softly than he had intended. "Thy condition is yet precarious, and I would not see thee suffer unduly."

Thancred voiced a sigh, but didn't stir again, save to curl his fingers around Urianger's slightly. Urianger swallowed hard before carefully withdrawing his grip. "I shall return momentarily," he promised. "I must needs look in on Minfilia, and bring the herbs she hath prepared, before I apply bandages."

Minfilia had finished preparing the herbs as per his rather hasty instructions, and it took only a few more minutes to turn the mixture into a salve and spread it along the bandages he meant to use. By the time he returned, Thancred's breathing had evened out, and he only stirred briefly as the bandages were secured.

Urianger hesitated when he was finished, watching the tension ease from Thancred's sleeping face as the salve did its work to numb the flesh. Before he could bring himself to leave, he allowed himself the single indulgence of running his fingers through the Hyur's hair, just once, confident that the ordeal of the day had left him too exhausted to notice.

The next few days were much the same: Urianger and Minfilia took turns sitting with him and reading quietly, but Thancred woke only infrequently, and spoke little before drifting off again. By the end of the week, he was doing better: enough so to sit up in bed, and as Urianger had predicted, express annoyance at having to stay there. Urianger had given way to letting Minfilia do most of the work of keeping him company, as he had plenty of chores around the house and tasks throughout Il Mheg which needed upkeep now that all his energy wasn't being devoted to making sure Thancred would recover. Changing Thancred's bandages and checking the status of his injury was still his task, though, and with Thancred fully alert, this presented new challenges.

"At least let me help with something in the kitchen," Thancred grumbled, as Urianger peeled back his bandages to see how well the skin was closing. "I promise not to try to lift anything heavier than a spoon, but I'm going to go mad if I have to stay in bed any longer."

"Thou wilt not," Urianger replied archly, not looking Thancred in the face as he focused on cleaning the exposed flesh. "Thy wound is closing well, and I would not have thee reopen it. 'Tis placed such that any activity whatsoever is liable to undo our work thus far. Well do I understand thy restlessness, but in this moment only patience will serve."

Thancred groaned in frustration, leaning his head back into the pillows that were supporting him half-upright. "And you're  _ sure _ healing magic won't help?"

"It hath been of limited aid in the attempts I have made thus far," Urianger confirmed. "However, if 'twill silence thy complaints, I am entirely willing to make another attempt in demonstration." He'd been planning to try again regardless; if Thancred thought it was a concession, maybe he would stop trying to re-injure himself.

Thancred sighed, still frustrated but unable to deny the logic. "At least give it another try? Maybe that aetheric contamination has eased off since the last time."

"'Tis not impossible." Urianger did think it unlikely, though - with normal aether channels, the contamination should have been working its way out by now, but Thancred's condition seemed to be impeding the process. Another reason to keep trying their therapy, once he had healed up.

Nonetheless, he knelt down to place a hand over the injury, and began again to channel his aether into a healing spell. As on his previous attempts, he could not coax the magic to sink in any deeper than the skin, avoiding the center of the now-half-closed wound. But with the edges beginning to seal, even that shallow suffusion had more of an effect than it had before, and he watched as the line of the gash began to shrink considerably.

Thancred's brow seemed to have fewer lines of discomfort on it, as well. "That feels better, at least. It's not as wide now, is it? I can't see very well from this angle…"

As soon as he realized Thancred was trying to sit up further to get a better look, Urianger hastily rose from his crouch to get better leverage, planted his open palm on Thancred's chest, and pushed him backward into his pillows. "Be  _ still! _ " he insisted, and then found himself taken aback both by his own actions and by Thancred's response: he was staring up at Urianger like a stranger, wide-eyed and vulnerable, and suddenly Urianger was much too aware of Thancred's bare chest and parted lips.

He drew back into his own space, heart beating fast, before he could start to imagine other circumstances in which he might see that look, and turned his gaze back down in an effort to hide the blush he could feel coming on. "'Tis better closed, and less like to scar," he acknowledged, trying to get himself back under control. "But thou art not healed yet, and moving thus will still tear at the edges. Thou art ever inclined to action; know that I am not keeping thee confined out of overcaution or spite. Rather, I would not see thy recovery prolonged, for the sake of both our sanity."

"Fine," Thancred relented, rubbing his face with one hand. "I understand. ...If I promise to be a better patient, can I at least help Minfilia with her lessons?" He looked up at Urianger with a half-serious pleading pout. "I can do that from here, and it will make me feel a  _ little _ less useless."

Urianger smiled at him. "Once I have replaced thy bandages, I shall bring in the books."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not totally happy with this one, but I'm tired of looking at it, so here

**Author's Note:**

> Eternal gratitude goes to [Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched and Enabling Book Club](https://discord.gg/npDUr5w) for giving me the impetus to finally put this up. If you also want to be enabled, or to help with the enabling, please come visit and get swarmed with affection!


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